


"I'll walk you home."

by Pandigital



Series: 100 ways to say I love you. [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cancer, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandigital/pseuds/Pandigital
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When people get sick, they tell their loved ones because they have a right to know. Unless you get bad news, and then, you don't want them to know. Because life shouldn't be about the end, it should be about living. But not everyone thinks that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I'll walk you home."

**Author's Note:**

> A good friend of mine had cancer and didn't say anything about it. He got better, but for a long time, he was sure he only had two years to live, even with Chemo. I didn't know until I got a call from him to come and pick him up. We had fought since he hadn't told me and I assumed the worse. I was a bad friend. He forgave me for thinking the worse but he has told me that he never wanted any of us to worry about him. This was inspired by this, because he did breakup with girlfriend when he found out. They are now married with two dogs.

Alistair could have been mad. He could have ranted and vented and been angry at Mahariel, but he wasn’t. She had her reason for not telling him. For breaking his heart. If he hadn’t been getting his arm in a cast at the hospital at the same time that those nurses had been gossiping, he might not have wandered down to the chemotherapy center on the ground floor near the west side parking lot. He must have looked like a crazy man, when he walked up to the front counter and spoke to a red-head whose nametag read “Leliana” and who gave him a critical eye before letting him in. The nurses had talked about the elf in black with red shoes, Dalish with a sweet smile.

Who always thanked them for their hard work and let them call her Maha. He always called her Maha when he kissed her. When he hugged her. When he dreamed about her, her name was Maha. So when he entered the room, he almost didn’t see her. They hadn’t spoken in two months. But to see her, so thin and sickly, with a thick wool hat on in the dead heat of summer. By the Maker above, his heart almost fell down into the pit of his stomach.

She had been reading a book and then had looked up. Her sweet amber eyes locked onto his face. Shock and something else was festering in her sickly visage as she asked, “Alistair?”

He pulled a spare chair up to hers, as the machines did their work, sitting down and taking her hand in his, the cast resting in his lap, her book forgotten and her pink and yellow tie-dye backpack at his feet. He gave her a soft smile, “Hey...there she is.”

“What happened to your arm?” she asked as she looked at the blue cast. He rolled his eyes and chuckled. She raised an eyebrow. Or where her eyebrow should have been raised itself. Maker she was still beautiful and he had let her go to deal with this alone. He was such a fool.

“I was playing soccer with some of the guys, Sten hit me hard and down I went. Snap and crack, my wrist was broke and Morrigan laughed the whole before she dropped me off. Then she ditched me and then I heard about you being here and...I came.”

She rolled her eyes as she let out a puff of air and let her body relax into the red cushions under her, “The nurses?”

“Yep.”

“Hawke and Isabela, I should have guessed. You don’t have to be here.”

“I want to be.”

She looked at him for a long moment. There hands holding each other. The world fell away. He had missed her so much. She licked her dry lips and asked him in her softest voice, the voice that had whispered in his ear as he had held her body close to his and worshipped her all night long, “Aren’t you mad that I’m dying, Alistair?”

Yes. By ever god, yes, he was mad. He was boiling alive with his fury. He wanted to burn the world for this slight against him and Maha. The grief was circling him like a rapid wolf, ready to strike, and he knew it. But he wasn’t the one dying. She was.

No, she wasn’t. She was going to be just fine and a healthy woman like her loved it when he did his little smirk and told his bad puns and jokes to her. He kissed her hand and answered, “You look good for a dead woman then. I’d still kiss you.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. Her voice cracked and she looked so tired, “Stop. I...I only have a year to live, by time is up by this time next year. That’s it. This, the chemo, I had nothing to lose by saying yes and everything to gain. But I know...Alistair you need someone who can be there for you.”

He leaned forward and kissed her full on the mouth, holding her fragil skull between his two clunky hands. She still tasted like the sun and all his purest and happiest thoughts, “I did. And then I lost her without even fighting for her. But I’m here now, and unless the Maker himself yanks me away, I’m not leaving again. So if we have a year, then fine. I’ll make it the best damn year of your life and nothing in this world is going to stop me from making sure that when you...when you die, you won’t be in pain; you’ll be happy.”

She gave giggling snort, pushing his face away from hers, “You are so sappy.”

“I am indeed, my lady.” he chuckled.

They spoke of things they had done since leaving each other. She still had his Grey Warden Academy sweater. She used it to sleep in as her pajamas. She confessed that it had stopped smelling like him but she still wore it because it made her feel happy. He still had the picture of them when they had gone to the beach and played that horrible prank of Morrigan. They had a picture of Morrigan, asleep with black sharpie on her chest saying “Bad Witch”, with the two of them making ducks faces and making peace signs around her. When her chemo was done, she was woozy and he took her wheelchair from the nurse and rolled her out into the mid-day sun, toward the parking lot.

“So what now?” she slurred.

He looked around the parking lot and didn’t see anyone pulling up to come and get her, “Do you have a car? Or are you still walking everywhere because you can’t drive.”

She waved her hand a slow and very drugged manner, “Ass. Walk. Why?”

“I’ll walk you home.” he said as he pulled her backpack over his shoulder and helped her to her feet before hooking her arm over his neck and having his thumb curl into the beltloop of her green jeans. His cast was going to chaff the fabric but he’d buy her a new pair if that happened. She lifted her head with a very tired look and smile at him. He would have conquered the world for that smile. He smiled back. And then he kissed her forehead and began to walk toward where her apartment was.

She still lived on the same block.

“You don’t have to.” she said.

“I know.” he anwsered.

“Thank you, Alistair. My sweet prince.”

“My Queen, for you, I’d walk into fire.” 


End file.
